


there's a light for you, burning for you

by whiteberryx



Series: somewhere i can rest my soul [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/F, probably not canon compliant somewhere, season 13 i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 08:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteberryx/pseuds/whiteberryx
Summary: Even though they spend most of their days mere feet from each other, they barely say more than twenty words to each other a week.Casey spends a lot of time in her head and gets to know Alex a little better.





	there's a light for you, burning for you

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely late to this pairing. I'm here because my massive crush on Stephanie March re-appeared out of nowhere, then this fic happened.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so if the tense flicks back and forth, I'm sorry. Title from Mø's Walk This Way.

For the first six weeks, give or take, Casey can’t think of her as anything but Cabot.

It’s strange enough, working both in close quarters and at arm’s length. If Casey’s walking into her office, she can see if Cabot is in, but only if the door is open and she’s right up to the desk, hunched over a file. Otherwise, she barely sees her. Neither of them pay attention to regular meal times, their court dates hardly ever line up, and despite the fact that they’re often at the precinct, it’s rarely at the same time. 

Even though they spend most of their days mere feet from each other, they barely say more than twenty words to each other a week. _Hi, morning, good work with Goldberg, Cutter was looking for you, here’s the Landowski file._ Already, that’s a majority of their communication for the week. The remainder is when they say good night, and that’s only if they’re the last two in the office. Casey’s not sure if it’s out of politeness or because both of them have good reason to know when they’re alone, but she appreciates it either way.

Working the sex crimes docket is hard enough without having to do it by committee; the squad isn’t known to be great with change, and here they are with a stable of prosecutors breathing down their necks. Add that to the fact that Casey’s having to do in both the proverbial shadow of Cabot and her own first stint in the office, and she’s almost looking forward to her next dental appointment, because at least it will keep her out of the office, and out of the shadows.

Neither shadow really exists anymore, she knows this, but that doesn’t mean it feels like they’re gone. Picking up right up where she left off went a long way to helping dispel the notion, but it doesn’t matter when the flesh and blood Cabot is right there, simply existing. Even though the three-year hiatus seems to loom large some days, it’s nothing compared to knowing that the woman she once replaced, against everyone’s will, is just across the hall.

*

It takes another month, but Cabot eventually becomes Alex, and suddenly, some things inside the office become a lot easier to manage. The cases are still just as horrific, there’s always some defense attorney trying to make a name for himself, but Casey finally feels as close to settled as she can. The arm’s length distance that she keeps with Alex is now routine, and that’s that.

They’re both on different tracks, anyways, with Casey making sure she hasn’t missed a step, and Alex gliding around the DA’s office like nothing’s changed. It seems that the the list of moves for Alex never ends, between bureaus and roles, between Albany and Manhattan, but Alex manages it with apparent ease. Casey’s given up on trying to figure out where she’ll be next. It’s unlikely their tracks are going to cross much, as it is. For now, she’s focused on keeping on the straight and narrow as best she can, because now that she’s back, she’s not going to let her career take another detour.

Unfortunately, since things inside the office are smoother, that means more of Casey’s time is suddenly free to be spent thinking about Alex. Casey prefers to keep everyone at a suitable distance, to conserve her energy and focus on the challenge at hand, but presently, Alex occupies her idle thoughts. What’s behind the sharp, frosty exterior, how her mind shifts from case to case with ease. She has the largest caseload right now, and for good reason.

Once or twice, Casey catches herself wondering what’s under those Armani suits, but she shuts those thoughts down as soon as they cross her mind. It’s been a while since she’s been with anyone, save for a few regrettable one night stands early on during her hiatus, so it’s inconveniently easy to let her mind wander.

The DA’s office is worse than any school Casey’s ever been to, so she knows, with some misgivings, just who Alex has and hasn’t been involved with, along with whispers of how she’s changed, what she was like before. Every time Casey hears something, and even though it’s only half true at best, she wonders if it could be what makes her see Alex in a new light, if it could be the thing that wipes her from her mind completely. It never is, so she continues to see Alex, on her track to heavens knows where, and her on her own, steady as she goes.

*

A couple of weeks later, they end up at the bar around the corner one night with the squad. Casey sips a beer in between bites of stolen fries, while Alex sticks to a liquid diet of gin and tonic. They talk with the squad, but not each other, until Casey realizes her keys are still in the office, along with some files she was supposed to bring home. Alex volunteers to walk her back instead of Casey having to find a security guard.

Once Alex lets her in, Casey hurries into her office to grab her things. When she looks up at the door, she’s surprised to see the other woman leaning on the door jamb. Even with the dim light from the street outside and the lamp on her desk, Casey can see the tension in Alex’s mouth, the only tell Casey knows she has.

Casey has two tells: her eyes will narrow for a split second when she knows she’s got something, or she’ll lick her lips when she feels something’s about to slip away. Sometimes Casey thinks she’s found Alex’s second tell in her eyes, but almost as soon as she thinks she sees something, it’s gone. It’s like Alex can make the light catch the lenses of her glasses just right to disguise what she’s thinking. Of course Alex can manipulate the light for her own benefit.

She can’t quite pull of the same deception with her mouth, though. Casey knows when a smirk is coming, or when things aren’t quite going Alex’s way. Right now, the tension from the corner of her mouth extends along her jaw, and Casey knows she’s trying to frame a phrase in her head. Casey looks away, hoping she hasn’t been caught, and continues to pick up her files to take home.

“You’re the only one that’s called me Cabot, as of late,” Alex says, breaking the silence. Casey stops shoving files into her bag.

“Are you annoyed about that?” Casey isn’t sure what caused this segue, but she does know it’s the first non-work related topic Alex has mentioned to her all night. All month, really.

Alex steps closer to the desk, to Casey, then responds. “No, sometimes I need the reminder.” She takes another step, and then she’s in Casey’s personal space. Alex leans in, her barely-appropriate heels giving her an inch on Casey in her more practical shoes. Casey doesn’t move, suddenly unsure where this is going, but she knows better than to try and stop Alex when she’s in the middle of something.

Their noses touch before their lips do, a brush more than a kiss. Casey wonders if she’d been a lot more obvious than she thought as she watched Alex, since the other woman seems sure enough about trying to kiss her. What’s she’s more sure of, though, is that Alex is holding back a bit, that the three drinks tonight were probably just to help her get to here.

Casey realizes she’s frozen, because Alex pulls away. “Am I wrong?” she asks, her voice less confident than Casey’s ever heard it before. She’s probably not used to not eliciting a reaction. Casey feels a surge of victory, if only because this side of Alex is completely new to her.

Then she realizes she doesn’t want to make Alex feel that way, and her triumph is extinguished. “Alexandra Cabot’s _never_ wrong,” Casey says lightly, one hand curling around Alex’s waist.

Alex kisses her again, a little more sure this time. She nips at Casey’s lower lip as she leans away, and the split-second holds on all the promise in the world. “Have dinner with me on Friday?” Alex asks when they part.

It’s Wednesday. Casey can make it through 48 hours. “Of course.”

*

They don’t have dinner on Friday. Cutter ends up in the hospital with pneumonia Thursday afternoon. His caseload gets split, and though the aim is to get continuances in as many as possible, they have to be prepared. Instead of going to dinner, Casey and Alex pore over notes and try to read up as much as they can in the break room, abandoned Thai food and coffee cups between them.

They work in silence, as they did before, but the silence isn’t thick to Casey anymore. She’ll never know what exactly goes on in Alex’s brain, but she knows now that there’s about half a percentage that thinks about her occasionally, and she’s fine with that.

Half past ten, Alex tosses her glasses on the table and puts her head in her hands. “Could his notes be any more disorganized?” she asks, voice suspiciously pitched like a whine.

Casey shuts the file she’s looking at with more emphasis than she intended. “I honestly can’t tell if he’s writing in English or not in some of these,” she adds. “I’m going to go cross eyed soon. We might as well stop for the night. 

Alex nods, copying Casey and closing the folder she’s perusing. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Casey laughs. “You’re not going to give yourself more than twelve hours to recover from trying to decipher these hieroglyphics? Are you a masochist?”

Alex’s mouth curls coquettishly as she locks eyes with Casey. Then in a blink of an eye it’s gone, Casey feeling like she possibly hallucinated the smirk on Alex’s face when she brought up masochism. “No, I wanted to know if we could have dinner tomorrow instead.”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.” Casey isn’t sure if she just witnessed the true Alex Cabot, or another one of her innumerable layers. She’s not even sure if she _is_ free tomorrow, but she knows that it doesn’t matter. Not when Alex Cabot is asking.

Alex’s smile turns genuine, Casey thinks. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear that black dress you wore to the last Christmas dinner.”

*

Alex is prompt in picking her up, and she opens the side door to her Benz for Casey. They manage to stay away from work topics for most of the drive, though Alex does ask how Casey’s doing working through Cutter’s notes.

“It’s fine. I looked some over earlier, I think we looked at the worst ones last night.”

Alex cuts the engine and comes around to open Casey’s door before she realizes it. Once Casey’s out, Alex locks the car and gives Casey’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Good. Now, no more work talk.” Casey’s about to protest that she was the one who brought it up, but Alex is whisking her inside, her coat is being taken away, and it dawns on her that Alex has brought her to Del Posto.

“Alex, you shouldn’t have.” Casey’s can’t hide her surprise, even in as low a voice as she’s using, and she’s both flattered and appalled. It’s an open secret that Alex doesn’t have to work to live the lifestyle she does, and she can’t help but think that Alex is trying to impress her. Her next thought is that Alex doesn’t even have to try, and Casey’s not sure where that one came from.

“I heard you mention to Rubirosa that you wanted to go. I assumed you weren’t kidding. 

Casey puts her best neutral expression on as they’re seated, but when they’re left alone, she pins Alex down with her eyes. “Alex, I haven’t seen her in weeks,” Casey says, and suddenly, she wonders what else Alex has heard, and how long she’s been listening.

“I wanted to. Please, Casey,” Alex says.

Alex isn’t rude, but she doesn’t often say please, and Casey knows this. Casey also sees the twitch in Alex’s cheek, and with whatever this is, it’s not fair to either of them to have a discussion over Alex’s choice in restaurant, even if it doesn’t have a single price on the menu and reservations are required ages in advance.

“Alex, how did you even get us in here considering we had to cancel last night?”

Alex opens the wine list and suddenly appears extremely interested in it. “Call it circumstance. Do you mind if I order by the glass?”

“Not at all, you drove,” Casey answers, willing to let every question go, for now.

*

When the plates are cleared and they’re in between anecdotes about poor life choices made during law school and their favorite coffee shops on the route from Hogan to the courthouse, Alex gives Casey a look. “You look stunning tonight.”

“You said that when you picked me up, and as I said before, you’re doing a fine job of looking beautiful yourself.” Casey’s entranced by the way the light glints off Alex’s hair all evening, and she’s sure it shows in her dopey expression. Alex is keeping her hair long now; tonight it’s curled at the ends, and Casey can’t help but follow the wave with her eyes.

“You deserve to hear it again.” Alex clinks her glass against Casey’s, then finishes her wine. 

Dinner goes well, better than Casey and the thousand butterflies in her stomach thought it would. Besides being caught off guard at Alex’s choice of first date venue, Casey regrets not being able to get to know Alex a little sooner. She’s not quite sure where they’re going, or what they intend to do when they get to where it is they’re supposed to be, but she’s comfortable enough that she gives Alex a taste of her dessert off her spoon.

When they’re in front of her building, Casey’s not sure what the protocol is. The first date with a brilliant, drop-dead gorgeous female colleague she sits within forty feet of during the day, at a restaurant she’d never think she’d be able to nab a reservation for. “Alex, I…”

“I had a great time tonight. Better than great.” Alex reaches across and squeezes Casey’s hand, and something relaxes in her chest.

“Me too. Thank you again for dinner.” Casey squeezes back, and they lean in towards one another at the same time. Casey’s already undone her seatbelt, so it’s easy to lean over and kiss Alex. She’s suddenly quite grateful they’ve kissed before; at least one first date jitter is already checked off.

 _This_ kiss isn’t chaste by any definition, and Casey knows that dragging Alex upstairs isn’t the best idea right now. There are still too many unknowns about what they’re doing. That doesn’t stop her, though, from pulling Alex closer by the front of her coat and making sure she stays there until Casey’s through.

When they part, Alex is biting her lip, as if she’s physically stopping herself from going back for more. “Talk to you tomorrow?” Alex asks, and if Casey’s not mistaken, there’s that same hesitance there that she heard in her office earlier this week. 

“Of course. Sleep well, Alex,” Casey says, leaning in for a brief good night kiss before getting out of the car. When she turns to make sure the door of her building’s shut behind her, she sees Alex making sure she’s inside before driving away. Casey practically floats to the elevator.

*

Casey’s phone rings mid-afternoon, right as she’s finishing her third cup of coffee and the Eagles game has gone to halftime. It’s Alex. Absently wondering if the woman has the ability to manipulate time as well as light, she picks up. “Good afternoon, Counselor.”

“Good afternoon, yourself,” Alex says. “How are you?”

Casey’s inordinately happy that Alex appears to be a woman of her word, even though she knew that already. “Oh, you know. Still thinking about that custard from last night,” she teases. Though it was good, it pales in comparison to the rest of the night, namely the woman that brought her there.

“I thought you might have a sweet tooth,” Alex murmured.

It sounds to Casey like Alex is confirming a theory of her own, and the thought makes her smile. Humming, she flicks the television to mute. “How’s your Sunday?”

There’s a rustling on the Alex’s side. “Coffee, trying to catch up on the crosswords this week, resisting the temptation of going through my emails. A normal Sunday.”

“I’m sure you can resist a few hours longer.”

“What makes you say that?”

Casey can almost see the arching of an eyebrow. “You’re usually good for a few emails, but not until after dinner. I’m sure that iron control of yours will be able to last.”

“If I had this iron control you mentioned, I’m not sure we’d be having this phone call right now. 

Casey isn’t quite sure what she meant, but her instincts take over. “So if you had used your iron control, we wouldn’t have gone for dinner?” Casey could let it go, but her mouth is too quick on this one. “Seemed like you had a good enough time last night.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Alex says, voice tight.

Casey feels the butterflies again, only this time, they aren’t the good ones. Alex doesn’t offer anything more. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. She hangs up and chucks the phone into the couch cushions before flipping the game back on to full volume.

*

When Casey gets in on Monday, she slings her bag on the visitor’s chair and sits down before she notices the coffee cup on her desk. It isn’t just any coffee cup; it’s all black, with little gold polka dots on the cardboard sleeve. She’s been visited by the coffee fairy, the coffee fairy that knows her favorite coffee shop. It has significantly fewer lawyers there, mainly due to an overwhelming amount of succulents, and it’s definitely not convenient to get there from Alex’s to Hogan.

She moves the cup, and there’s a blue sticky note underneath, with the precise script of Alex Cabot easily filling the paper.

_I reacted poorly yesterday. I do listen, however._

Casey takes a sip, pleased with the strength of the drink, then goes to find Alex.

Alex is in the copy room, reading a file while the machine whirs in front of her. “I had a visit from the coffee fairy this morning,” Casey says casually, leaning against the door jamb. It doesn’t escape her that this was just like last week in her office, but reversed.

“Oh? Did the coffee fairy bring you something nice?” Alex asks, not looking up from what she was reading.

“The best. My favorite. Almost like the coffee fairy has been paying attention for the past while,” Casey says lightly. She steps inside the room and shuts the door so that it’s closed enough to give them a little privacy, but still open enough that it didn’t look suspicious.

Alex’s eyes flick over Casey’s shoulder, then back to her. “I shouldn’t have been so flippant yesterday. I’m still so used to...”

“Keeping yourself under control,” Casey finishes.

Alex nods.

Casey takes another sip. “I get it.”

“Do you?"

Casey gives Alex a look, and Alex winces. Casey remembers that same look on Alex’s face from when they were going over her testimony against Connors for the seventh time, and she guesses it’s the same expression she had on the phone yesterday as well. “I do.” 

“Sometimes, it’s difficult to remember how to be the Ice Queen,” Alex says wryly. The less than flattering nickname is no secret, and Casey admires that Alex owns it as best she can. Alex looks over Casey’s shoulder again, then continues. “It’s just as hard to remember that I’m more than the Ice Queen.”

“I’ll remind you any time you like. Maybe this Friday?” Casey’s mouth is too quick, again. It’s not the time to be asking for a second date, but somehow, it seems natural. It feels too easy to forget the frustration of yesterday, but in the grand scheme of things, this is minor. 

The words look like they surprise Alex, too, but Casey catches a faint note a relief in her eyes. “Of course.”

“Sounds like a plan. Oh, and Alex? It’s casual.” 

*

Casey isn’t surprised when she gets to Alex’s that the other woman’s idea of casual is cashmere, leather pants and heeled boots, but she’s definitely not sending Alex back to change. “Do you even own a pair of jeans?” Casey asks, half-joking.

Alex nods as she locks her door and walks them back to the elevators. “I do,” she confirms.

Casey’s glad she picked the leather pants, and she’s sure the look she gives Alex in the elevator tells the other woman all she needs to know.

Alex lives on the north end of the Upper West Side, Casey the south, so she’s decided on a cozy Italian place in between, serving what Casey considers the best Neapolitan pizza in the city. She’s almost surprised that Alex doesn’t use a fork and knife, and she can’t resist the urge to take a photo as Alex picks up her last slice, catching some toppings that are sliding off with her tongue.

“I don’t think anyone believe me if I told them Alex Cabot eats pizza with her hands,” Casey teases, showing Alex the picture. “I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them Alex Cabot eats pizza, now that I think about it.”

“Everyone eats pizza. I’m sure there’s a fair amount of things that I could tell people about myself and they wouldn’t believe me.”

Casey makes a note to make this picture the one that flashes up on her caller ID when Alex calls. “Try me,” Casey says, mostly because she’s curious what Alex thinks is unpredictable about her. “I’ve learned to not underestimate you,” she adds dryly.

Alex hums, wiping her fingers on her napkin before taking a sip of her Negroni. “I rowed for Yale all four years. I have a tattoo. I was the salutatorian in high school. My favorite—”

“Wait,” Casey interrupts. “You weren’t first in something?”

Alex wrinkles her nose. “Don’t remind me.” 

“I don’t know what’s stranger, that you weren’t first at something, or that you have a tattoo,” Casey laughs. “Let me guess. You had a little too much one night and a tattoo sounded like a great idea in freshman year.”

“Close,” Alex replies. “It is a permanent reminder of my brush with rebellion the summer before sophomore year.” She pauses, and Casey wonders if she’s going to continue.

She does. “That, and a scar on the back of my wrist from when I dropped a bong and it shattered, and then I tried to clean it up bare handed.”

The image of Alexandra Cabot getting stoned is too much for Casey and she has to hide her face behind her napkin. When she’s done, Alex has her courtroom stare on, but her cheeks are pink enough that it looks a little off, and that sets Casey off again. Alex rolls her eyes, but she’s smirking a bit which doesn’t make Casey feel guilty for laughing so much.

Long after the plates are cleared, Casey and Alex go next door for a drink. There’s no more tension between them, the passing of the week doing wonders to soothe any leftover sore sports, and it’s the best second date Casey’s ever been on. 

Casey walks Alex the few blocks north to her place. They’re standing on the sidewalk, just close enough to the building so they’re not in the way, when it’s time to say good night.

“I’m glad you wanted to go out tonight,” Alex says.

Casey grins in return. “How could I not? You’re Alex Cabot.”

Alex smiles the same smile she had when Casey asked her for another date, then she leans up to kiss Casey good night. Just like in the car last week, it’s nowhere near chaste, and now they don’t have the obstacle of seatbelts and a vehicle. 

“Come up?” Alex murmurs against Casey’s mouth before she pulls back.

Casey knows there’s no rush. She could make her excuses and still probably have a third date with Alex, but when faced with Alex’s earnest eyes, she can only nod and follow her inside.

*

Casey hadn’t intended to stay the night, but considering she’s lying on a perfectly firm mattress, wrapped in a cozy duvet and percale sheets, she’s quite happy she did. Stretching until she feels her back pop, Casey turns to see Alex still sleeping, her bare shoulder tempting her from where it pokes out from the covers. Despite several rounds last night, apparently all it takes is a glimpse of skin and Casey could be easily persuaded to start something again.

Sliding out of bed carefully, Casey takes the top sheet off the floor and goes to the kitchen. Alex’s kitchen is neater than her office, and Casey thinks that it doesn’t get used with any regularity.

Finding the glasses on her second try, Casey drains her first glass of water, then goes back for another before she hears rustling behind her. “Morning,” Casey says, and the mumble she gets back is more endearing than anything. Carrying a robe and the newspaper, with her glasses and oversized nightshirt on — of course Alex wears proper pyjamas with buttons — Alex has come prepared to the kitchen. Casey exchanges her sheet for the robe while Alex starts the coffeemaker. 

Alex gets two mugs down from the cabinet, and she perks up a bit while the coffee brews. “Do you want toast?” she asks.

Casey shakes her head. “Coffee’s fine.” This should be strange, sleeping over and waking up in Alex Cabot’s bed, but it’s not. The layers of Alex are seemingly peeling back by the minute, and Casey can’t stop wanting to find out what’s next.

Once the coffee is done, Alex brings over the two mugs, then goes to the fridge to get the cream. Casey can’t resist trying to see if there’s anything in the way of food inside, and when Alex turns around, she’s caught. Her eyes slide up to Alex’s sex hair, and she grins. 

“It’s a little early for spying, Novak,” Alex says.

Casey’s smile widens, knowing she’s been caught out. “I like your hair like this. You should wear it more often,” she teases back. Casey realizes how it sounds a split second later, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Alex looks at her reflection in the window, and she smirks when she sits back down, stirring cream into her coffee before taking a long drink. “It doesn’t get like this on its own. I need some help.” Alex gives Casey a look over the rim of her mug.

Pleased that her slip didn’t put her out, Casey adds cream to her coffee and takes her first sip. It’s not nearly enough to help her carry this repartee, but she can try. “Oh? Sounds pretty demanding, Cabot.” Under the table, she slides her foot up Alex’s calf.

“I think I can come up with a solution.” Alex sets her mug down. “Did you want a shower?”

Casey shrugs. “I could just— oh,” she catches on a moment after as Alex is standing up and unbuttoning her shirt. “I could have a shower here.”

“You could,” Alex says, turning and heading down the hall, tossing her shirt into her bedroom on the way. Casey takes one last gulp of her coffee before she follows.

*

Monday comes, and though they know exactly what to do and what not to do in the office, it’s hard for Casey to not recall a choice detail of Friday night, or Saturday morning, whenever she sees Alex. While normally they only see run into one another once or twice a day, today Casey’s pretty sure they see each other half a dozen times. Casey can tell Alex is struggling too, as her jaw has never looked so tense when it’s just the two of them in the elevator.

At the end of the day, Casey has to drop a file off with Alex. “We made it,” she says quietly, even though there isn’t anyone else in but them. The assistants are gone, and Cutter’s still at the courthouse.

“We did,” Alex replies, looking considerably less strained than she did earlier in the day.

“How was your day?”

“Quiet. Mostly paperwork,” Alex says. She checks the file Casey just handed her, then sets it on her desk.

Casey looks behind her, even though the door is mostly shut and she knows there’s no one else around. “Do you want to grab dinner?”

Alex looks at the files on her desk, then back at Casey, and nods. She’s giving Casey what she’s quickly learning is her real smile, and it makes Casey feel a lot more confident about whatever they’re doing. “Are you ready to go now?” Alex asks.

They haven’t discussed what this is; it hasn’t even been two weeks since they first kissed in her office. Casey isn’t great with uncertainty, but whatever this could be, Casey thinks that it could be more than okay. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still trying to figure these two out, because now I want to write more D: feedback very much appreciated!


End file.
